“Sure did,” Wagner replied. He climbed back out of the cleft toward his boss. “It’s in the truck bed along with the pickaxes. I brought a sledgehammer too. It never hurts to be prepared.”
“Perfect.” Harlan stood aside to let Wagner pass and followed him back to the truck. He realized the Mexican laborers were still sitting inside, apparently waiting for someone to tell them what to do. “What’s up with them?”
“Beats me.” Wagner pounded on the quad cab’s rear door and motioned for the men to get out, then led them behind the truck and dropped the tailgate. He handed both men a pickaxe, backpack, and flashlight. Finally, he grabbed a heavy crowbar and started back toward the mine entrance with the laborers in tow.
The crowbar made quick work of the planks, which were rotten and probably decades old. They practically disintegrated when Wagner pried them off. The mine entrance beyond was a yawning black chasm. Harlan smelled fetid, stale air. He wondered if some animal had crawled in there to die.
“You got the map copies showing the location where you want them to go?” Wagner asked.
“Right here.” Harlan clutched three sheets of paper in his hand, which he’d grabbed when they returned to the truck. He handed one to each of the laborers and kept the third for himself. He pointed to a mark on the map representing the entrance they were currently standing beside and then motioned to an X drawn in red ink over one of the tunnels. He traced his fingertip back from the entrance to the X, to show the Mexicans where to go.
They watched with narrowed eyes, then nodded their understanding.
Harlan glanced toward Wagner. “Do they know what they’re looking for when they get there?”
“Sure.” Wagner confirmed. “I had a work supervisor back at the casino translate my instructions into Spanish. I made it clear what we were looking for and how they were to extract it.”
“You didn’t mention gold, did you?”
“Do I look that dumb?” Wagner retorted. “They think we’re looking for samples of quartz to use for a themed mine display in the hotel lobby.”
“That’s a pretty weak cover story.” Harlan wasn’t pleased. “We could get ahold of that stuff anywhere.”
“I told them your ancestor worked this mine, and you wanted the real deal. Sentimental reasons.”
“Still sounds pretty lame, if you ask me.”
“Who cares?” Wagner replied. “They’re here, aren’t they?”
“I suppose.” Harlan glanced toward the sky. The sun was already dipping low. “Can we hurry this up?”
Wagner huffed, obviously annoyed by Harlan’s attitude, but said nothing. Instead, he motioned for the laborers to enter the mine.
They nodded, their faces displaying no discernible emotion, and switched on the flashlights. A moment later they stepped over the threshold, pickaxes in hand, and were soon swallowed up by darkness.
Chapter Forty
Decker sat in the passenger seat of the government issued black Crown Victoria, driven by Special Agent Jackson Barnes. They followed route 95 toward the interstate. This would bring them through Henderson, into Las Vegas, and Wagner Mitchell’s high-rise condo unit overlooking the Strip. At least, if the address on his vehicle registration was correct.
As they approached Boulder City, Decker spoke. “I’m surprised that Agent Fowler didn’t want to come on our little jaunt.”
“It was our lead. He figured the two of us could handle it,” Barnes replied.
“Speaking of which, how are we going to handle it?” Decker asked. “We’re still not sure how those two bozos fit into any of this, other than lying about their identities.”
“Which is good enough reason for me to think they have something to hide. Innocent people don’t panic and make up stories when confronted by the law.” Barnes glanced in his rearview mirror, then pulled out around a slow-moving dump truck that was trundling along the road as if it had nowhere better to be. “Even if they have nothing to do with whatever killed those folks inside that mine, they were up to something, for sure.”
“And it’s not like we have any other leads,” Decker said. “I’ve learned over the years that you can never tell where an investigation will take you. Even seemingly inconsequential details, or unrelated events, have a habit of proving useful.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Barnes agreed. “Since I have the FBI badge, I’ll take the lead when we get there.”
“If you like,” Decker said. “A suggestion, though. Let’s not mention anything about the deaths in the mine or the creature. I’d like to see if he trips over himself and lets something slip that he shouldn’t know.”
“They reported the deaths on TV, even though there was a media blackout. Probably some loose lipped sergeant in the LVMPD.”
“They didn’t report everything.”
“And if he knows details that weren’t released, we’ll have cause to take him into custody and continue the conversation in an interrogation room.”
“Let’s not forget the other guy,” Decker said. “We still need to find out who he is.”
“I haven’t forgotten that. That’s one of the first things I’m going to ask. And he’d better tell me the truth this time.”
“If we’re lucky, they’ll be together.”
“When have you ever been that lucky?”
“Rarely,” Decker agreed. “It would sure make this easier though, don’t you think?”
“Then let’s keep our fingers crossed that—” Barnes cell phone rang before he could finish. He glanced down toward it in the compartment between the seats and furrowed his brow. “It’s Fowler.”
“I wonder what he wants?” A sense of foreboding overcame Decker.
“Only one way to find out.” Barnes snatched up the phone and answered, putting it on speaker so that Decker could hear. “Hey. What’s going on?”
“A hell of a lot,” Fowler’s voice said on the other end of the line. “Family out for a day trip made a gruesome discovery this afternoon. Two bodies at a campsite, pretty mutilated. They called in to Vegas PD, who gave me the heads up.”
“Aw, shit.” Barnes exchanged a quick look with Decker. “You think it’s related to the incidents in the mine?”
“Can’t be sure until I have more information, but it feels like a hell of a coincidence. Crime scene is less than a mile away as the crow flies. I borrowed Robyn Miller’s car. I’m heading there now. I’ll text you the coordinates. You can meet me there.”
“Sure thing. We haven’t even made it halfway to Vegas yet.”
“Great. Then it won’t take you long to get there.” Fowler’s phone signal was breaking up. “I’m entering the canyon. I’ll send that text now in case I lose service.”
“Roger that,” Barnes replied, but Fowler had already hung up. He slowed the car, swung the wheel hard, and pulled a U-turn to head back in the other direction. “I guess our investigation just took a turn for the worse.”
“Looks that way,” Decker replied. He hoped the newly discovered bodies had nothing to do with the creature in the mine, but deep down he was sure they did.
Chapter Forty-One
When Decker and Barnes arrived at the coordinates Special Agent Fowler had sent, they discovered a hive of activity. Police cruisers were parked blocking the trail leading into the site where the two bodies lay, light bars silently flashing. Beyond this stood a couple of unmarked cars and two white vans-one marked Crime Scene Investigations and the other, Coroner.
Barnes came to a stop behind the police cruisers and together he and Decker made their way toward the activity, stepping between the parked vehicles. A uniformed officer came toward them, raising a hand to wave them off until Barnes flashed his FBI credentials.
As they approached the scene, Decker saw a red Jeep Cherokee parked several feet from a small tent. Nearby were the remains of a fire pit. But it was the two bodies, both laying on their back, that drew his attention. They were young, mid-20s. A man and a woman, probably a couple. Even before
he drew close, Decker could see the massive injuries to their torsos. The skin had been flayed back, abdomens ripped open. A medical examiner was kneeling next to the woman, examining the corpse, while a crime scene photographer was circling the other victim snapping photographs.
When they drew close, Special Agent Fowler turned to meet them, a stony expression upon his face. He looked at Decker. “Hope you’re not squeamish.”
“I was a homicide cop in New York. Not squeamish.”
“Good. Because whatever tore these two up, did a fine job of it.” Fowler stepped aside to let his partner and Decker moved closer. “Glad I only had a light lunch, or it might make an encore appearance.”
Decker doubted that. Fowler was a seasoned FBI agent unlikely to be phased by the sight of a corpse, no matter what its condition. He glanced toward the bodies. “What do we know so far?”
“Victims are Darwin Andoe and Tiffany Kent. Twenty-six and twenty-four, according to their driver’s licenses. Obviously out here together. They were sharing one tent.”
“How were they found?”
“Family on vacation from Pittsburgh. They wanted to see a real Western ghost town. They found a Yelp review of the unofficial tours that old man Carlton used to give and thought it would be a neat afternoon out. Hadn’t even heard of the killings in the mine.”
“So how did they end up here?”
“Took a wrong turn. Don’t ask me how when every car has GPS.”
“Huh. That was fortuitous. Might have been weeks before these bodies were found otherwise.”
“Someone would have come across them, eventually. This area is a pretty popular camping spot. I came out here a few times myself back in the day, when it still felt like an adventure to sleep outdoors on the hard ground instead of in a soft bed.”
“You don’t strike me as the camping type,” Decker said, looking at Fowler. “No offense.”
“No offense taken. I’m older and wiser now. Camping just seems like an unnecessary hardship.”
Decker’s eyes drifted back to the pair of corpses. “We have a time of death?”
“Sometime between midnight and six, according to the coroner. We should be able to pin that down further once we get them back to the lab.”
Decker scratched his chin. The girl was wearing flannel pajamas, or rather, what was left of them. The male was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but no shoes or socks. A pistol lay nearby in the dirt. Decker’s gaze strayed from the bodies toward the tent. The flap was open. A ruffled sleeping bag was visible within. “They were asleep before the attack. Their killer must’ve woken them.”
“Why do you say that?” Fowler asked.
“Look at the sleeping bag inside the open tent. Plus, the man isn’t wearing shoes or socks, which denotes he dressed in a hurry. The girl is still in her night attire, so she probably sent him out first to look around and then followed when she became worried about him. There’s a gun too. If you check, I bet you’ll find it’s been fired, but it didn’t do any good.”
“You can’t possibly know that.”
“Sure, I can. Whatever roused them from their sleep was disturbing enough to warrant grabbing a gun before investigating. Under the circumstances, it’s more than likely they would use that gun when faced with a deadly threat. Obviously, it was a waste of time because both victims are deceased.” Decker studied the surrounding area. “There isn’t any blood to indicate they injured their attacker, and no third body, so firing the gun achieved nothing.”
“Makes sense.” Fowler nodded.
“And we don’t need to speculate on the time of death. It was around 2 AM.”
“The gunshots you heard last night.”
“Precisely. I bet we’re not more than a mile from the ghost town. A mile and a half at most. The sound of gunshots can travel pretty far, especially in a landscape like this where they can echo off the rocks and canyon walls. There’s also no noise pollution to mask the shots out here.”
“That still leaves the question of who killed these people,” Barnes said, speaking for the first time since they’d arrived at the site.
“Those wounds don’t look like a human made them. These unfortunate people were violently ripped open. Remind you of anything?”
“The search and rescue team member. Sasha Martin.”
“Precisely.”
“You think it’s the creature from the mine,” Fowler said.
“Yes.” Decker glanced at his watch, then looked at Fowler. “Did you speak to the ME’s office about my request to view her body?”
“I did. They performed the autopsy but haven’t released the remains yet. They’re holding them until we give permission.”
“Then that should be our next stop,” Decker said. “I’d like to compare the wounds on these people to those of Sasha Martin. If they match, it will rule out a regular animal attack.”
“What about the plate we ran?” Barnes asked. “Wagner Mitchell?”
“That will have to wait. This is more important.” Decker turned away from the bodies. “I’d like to go right now, if you don’t mind.”
The two FBI agents exchanged glances, then Barnes turned toward his car. “Come on, then. I’ll drive you. Afterward we can stop at In-N-Out and you can buy me a burger.”
“Fair enough,” Decker replied. He turned toward Fowler. “Want us to bring one back for you?”
“Nah.” Fowler shook his head. “After spending the last hour looking at the remains of those campers, I’m not sure I’m in the mood for ground meat.”
Chapter Forty-Two
The sun had dropped below the mountains and long shadows crept across the twilight landscape. Harlan Biggs looked around, peering nervously into the gathering darkness. It was two hours since the men went into the mine and there had been no sign of them since. Now Harlan sat on a boulder near the entrance, with Wagner on a similar rock on the opposite side. He wished they’d waited until the next morning to come out here, when there would be more hours of daylight available. But he hadn’t thought it would take this long to get the samples of gold ore out of the mine.
“What are they doing in there?” He asked, rubbing his hands together. The temperature was dropping. The weather forecast said it would get down to fifty degrees overnight. He didn’t want to be out here when it did. “I hope they didn’t get lost.”
“Me too,” Wagner replied. “It’s hard to find good labor.”
“Did you bring a spare flashlight?”
“Yeah. Two of them. They’re in the back of the truck. Why?”
“Because if those Mexicans don’t come back soon, you’ll have to go in and find them.”
“Like hell I will.” Wagner shook his head. “The whole point of using laborers was to avoid dealing with whatever is lurking in there ourselves.”
“Well, we need to do something. I don’t want to stand out here all night.”
“And you think I do?” Wagner let out a disgruntled huff. He stared into the sooty darkness beyond the mine entrance. “How much longer do you intend to wait before we give up on this?”
“I don’t know,” Harlan admitted. He was tempted to have Wagner drive him back to the hotel right now and retreat to his penthouse suite to regroup. But that would solve nothing, and the clock was still ticking. He had less than two weeks to renegotiate his deal with Oscar Rossi or end up as a piñata for the mobster’s goons. He couldn’t afford to waste time. “I sure wish we’d thought to give them two-way radios to keep in contact with us.”
“What good would that have done?” Wagner asked. “We couldn’t even get them to say anything in the truck, let alone over a radio.”
“It would be better than nothing.”
“And it’s moot. We didn’t give them radios, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Which brings us back to the question, what do we do now?”
“I guess we wait,” Wagner said. “We don’t have a choice.”
“That doesn’t work for me.” Harlan stood and
fought his way back through the sagebrush toward the truck. The desert fell away into gloom on all sides. The flashlights were sitting in a cardboard box in the truck’s bed. He grabbed them and clicked one on. Playing the beam across the ground ahead of him, Harlan picked his way back to Wagner.
“Here,” he said, offering his general manager the second flashlight. “I brought this back for you.”
“I’m still not going inside that mine,” Wagner said, accepting the offering.
“Have you forgotten I’m your boss?”
“And have you forgotten that I can quit whenever I want. I’m your general manager, not a prospector. None of this is in my job description.”
“Would you rather work for Oscar Rossi?”
“No,” Wagner answered. “But I don’t want to go in there, either. Why don’t we just go back to the hotel and worry about this tomorrow? There are plenty of other workers. I’ll just round up a couple more.”
“And what if they come across their friends in there?” Harlan asked. “What if they find them dead?”
“Who cares as long as they find what we want?” Wagner said. “It’s not like they’ll run to the cops or anything. Not given their status as illegals.”
“Maybe.” Harlan still felt it would be a shame to waste an entire day. They were already here. But if the men didn’t come back, they would have no choice. He decided to compromise. “Why don’t we both go into the mine, just a little way, and see if we can find them.”
“How far are we talking?” Wagner asked, suspicious.
“I don’t know, far enough to see down the tunnel.”
“All right. But we’re only going a little past the entrance, no further. I’m not running around in there.”
“Deal.” Harlan took a step toward the mine entrance and shined his flashlight inside. “You go first.”
“Not likely, you’ll stay out here.”
“Fine. I’ll go first, but make sure you follow behind.” Harlan hesitated a moment, building his courage, then stepped past the support beams holding up the entrance. He moved slowly, sweeping the flashlight beam across the ground ahead of him. At his rear, he heard his general manager’s footfalls.
Ghost Canyon (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 7) Page 16
